


Firefly, come back to me

by SkySparks



Series: Arslan Senki Fandom Week 2016 (August 22-28) [2]
Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Isfan is mentioned, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:15:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkySparks/pseuds/SkySparks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abrutply, Kubard's head swayed, as if hearing Shapur's previous whisper of his name and now attempting to find the owner of the voice. Panic bloomed, and Shapur ducked into the corner of a building. He squeezed his eyes shut, reverently praying that Kubard wouldn't find him. For Mithra's sake, he only accepted that he was reincarnation of a former military commander a few weeks ago! </p>
<p>He wasn't ready to confront him! He wasn't ready to confront the man who Marzban Shapur had loved until his last breath. How would Kubard act? More importantly, how should he, the current Shapur, act? </p>
<p>A reincarnation AU in which Shapur and Kubard meets again, except the reunion doesn't go quite as smooth as anyone would believe, especially considering Shapur's identity crisis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firefly, come back to me

**Author's Note:**

> Day: Reincarnation AU
> 
> Title is inspired by the song, "Fireflies," by ATeens. It seems appropriate seeing as some cultures believes that fireflies are the spirits of the dead. Shapur and Kubard finally get the happy ending they deserve after Atropatene, but not without some trouble, first.
> 
> Arakawa or the anime producers, please give me a brief pre-Atropatene scene or an OVA where all the Marzbans interact. I need more of Shapur! Also, I need Isfan to speak in Season 3 (prayer hands emojis for season 3)!
> 
> The story turned out to be less of a reincarnation and more of a hurt/comfort fic. Why did I make my darlings suffer?

"Kubard," he breathed, scarcely able to believe his eyes. He rubbed them once, twice, and a third time for good measure. However, the sight of the tall one-eyed man stayed. Naturally, he was different from Shapur's vision, clad in a business suit instead of an armor. He also wielded a suitcase instead of the favored broadsword. The grey hair (all natural, Kubard had proclaimed during one of their rare outings to a tavern together) still seemed to defy gravity, especially considering that Pars never had hair gel. The scraggly beard, the strong built, and the scar sealing his eyes shut - all of them remained the same. 

Abrutply, Kubard's head swayed, as if hearing Shapur's previous whisper of his name and now attempting to find the owner of the voice. Panic bloomed, and Shapur ducked into the corner of a building. He squeezed his eyes shut, reverently praying that Kubard wouldn't find him. For Mithra's sake, he only accepted that he was reincarnation of a former military commander a few weeks ago! He wasn't ready to confront him! He wasn't ready to confront the man who Marzban Shapur had loved until his last breath. How would Kubard act? More importantly, how should he, the current Shapur, act? 

The dreams began approximately two years ago. At first, they the dreams only happened once or twice every month. It was startling to dream about himself in a world resembling ancient Persia, but he quickly brushed it off as childish nostalgia. Isfan’s moving in with him must have reminded him too much of his childhood. After all, wasn’t it normal for young boys to imagine themselves as warriors? 

Isfan had chosen a college near Shapur’s apartment and had decided to stay with his older brother to reduce travel costs. Shapur must have been too enthused to finally spend time with his younger brother after the last year of high school bombarded Isfan with homework, AP exams, dual credit classes, and college applications. 

Then, the frequencies of the dreams increased. They also became more vivid to the point that Shapur could still feel the smooth metal of his sword, the weight of his armor, and the smell of sweat in the air when he woke up. As Persian Shapur grew up, he eventually earned his title as Marzban Shapur and met Kubard. Kubard. Now, that was a surprised. Their first meeting and every subsequent meeting had been explosive, in more ways than one. When Marzban Shapur and Marzban Kubard fell in bed together and became lovers, Shapur wasn’t surprised. They had so much chemistry together. 

Finally, the dreams culminated with his death. 

For the longest time, Shapur didn’t know how to decipher these dreams. He couldn’t classify them as childhood remembrance anymore, or as figments of his imaginations, or even delusions. They were memories. Memories of his past life. He was a reincarnation. 

However, he wasn't going to fool himself. As much as he was a reincarnation, he could never be Marzban Shapur. No, that man died along with the arrow from that minstrel. Gieve, was it? At least, that was the name Isfan gave when his younger brother began to have his own dreams.

Wait, this wasn't the time to think about that matter! He had to run. He had to get away. His feet, though, refused to budge. A niggling voice sounded in his mind: what if he never enounter Kubard again? The city was doubtlessly large. It was by luck he even saw Kubard today. 

"Shapur."

The aforementioned man froze. That... That was Kubard's voice, right? Warily, he opened his eyes and was immediately greeted by a face of disbelief. Correction, Kubard's face of disbelief. For a brief moment, Shaur saw two overlapping images of Kubard. One, the mheasdfdswasodern business man, the other, Marzban Kubard.

His feet suddenly decided to carry out his previous command. Shapur bolted, but Kubard's reflexes were faster. Kubard held on tight to Shapur's arms. When it became clear that Shapur couldn't escape the grip (Kubard had always been the stronger between the two of them, just look at his chosen weapon), Shapur instead opted to turn his head away.

"Shapur, look at me." Kubard rumbled. Shapur tried unsuccessfully to contain his shudder. Why did everything about this man had to stay the same, especially how he inspired love in Shapur with only a few words?

"Who are you? Please let go of me. I don't know who you are," Shapur tried to deny, but his voice betrayed him. It shook with every word and didn't raise itself above a hoarse whisper.

Oh. Was he crying? Please no. The last thing he needed on top of meeting Kubard was to embarrass himself by crying in public.

"Don't act like you don't know me, Shapur." In that instant, Shapur hated how this man could so easily see through him. 

"I'm not Shapur!" He finally yelled, pivoting to face Kubard. "I'm not Marzban Shapur! I'm- I'm...just Shapur."

Kubard's grip loosened, and Shapur saw a chance to escape. He carefully flexed his fingers, knowing that he had to time this just right. The Marzban Kubard in his dreams had wickedly sharp instincts, and despite the peace in the city compared to the battlefield in Pars, Shapur couldn't be sure if this Kubard had just as fast reflexes;

But Kubard didn't give Shapur that chance. Shapur froze for the second time during their encounter as Kubard lifted his other hand to wipe away Shapur's tears.

The one-eyed man smiled, and Shapur's will crumbled, body slumping. It wasn't fair. That smile just wasn't fair. That hopeless smile that made Marzban Shapur reconsider his opinion of Marzban Kubard. That smile which Marzban Shapur and the current Shapur eventually learned to mean "Help, I'm trying to run from my demons, but I don't know what to do other than drown myself in alcohol and women." That smile became the starting point of Marzban Shapur and Marzban Kubard's relationship. 

Kubard easily drew the unprotesting man to his chest. Shapur grumbled for a while, but eventually lifted his own arms to encircle the gray-haired man's waist. The scene eerily resembled Shapur and Kubard's first confession. 

They stayed that way for who knows how long, just basking in each other's presence and ignoring any stares directed their way. Finally, Kubard spoke. "I know."

Shapur gritted his teeth, feeling his irritation rise once more. What did Kubard know of his troubles!? 

However, as sudden as that rush of anger came, it also quickly left. His relationship with Kubard was like a constant roller coaster; one moment, everything was at peace, the next moment, they would be at each other's throats. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, though. It was...them.

Kubard continued, as if hearing or perhaps feeling his former? lover's silent question. "I know you're not Marzban Shapur, just as I'm not Marzban Kubard, but they're a part of us, and we need to accept that. Their memories, their experiences are all real, but it doesn't mean that we are any less real." Kubard then paused. "Oi, idiot. Did you think that just because they're real that we're any less our own people?"

Shapur scowled and chose to squeeze Kubard's ribs instead of answering. He felt viciously pleased when the taller man gave a pained wheezed.

"You know, when I first heard your voice, I thought I was dreaming," Kubard said, changing the subject. "I looked around, but I didn't see anyone. I thought it might have been my imagination - wouldn't be the first time. But then, I saw those little braids of yours turn the corner of a building. I followed you, obviously. You aren’t the only one with braids, and I didn’t know that it was really you, but I still did it.”

The taller man lowered his head so that it could rest on Shapur’s head. “And then, I saw you."

Shapur froze once more. There was so much emotion in Kubard’s voice, as if he really felt love for Shapur. He cautiously looked up and immediately wished he didn’t. That hopeless smile appeared on Kubard’s face again, but it was coupled with an odd determined glint in his eyes that left Shapur confused. He never saw this expression on Marzban Shapur before. 

Abruptly, the gray-haired man released Shapur and guided him to a nearby cafe. Unbalanced and already missing the warmth, the older man allowed his younger counterpart to order a thai ice tea and a black coffee.

“Hey,” Kubard started. “How’s my English? No accent?”

Shapur jolted at the sudden subject change. Of all the things he expected his companion to say, this wouldn’t even make the top 100. “No, your English is good. You’re not from America?”

“Nope,” Kubard chuckled and sipped his black coffee. “Born and raised in the wonderful German countryside. I was homeschooled by my parents up until I finished high school. My old man is a CEO of a business company and sent me to America for college and to get business experience at his new American branch.” He grinned. “It’s just like him to do that: kill two birds with one stone.”

“I see.” Shapur still had no idea what was happening. Kubard could be such an impulsive bastard at times.

“Graduated and got my master’s degree a few years ago. School was boring, not enough hands-on experience opportunities. I’ve been promoted to department chief a year ago and currently working my way so that I can take over for my old man one day.” Kubard smiled again. “Not bad at 31, right?”

“Yes, not bad at all,” Shapur agreed. If he assumed that Kubard inherited some of Marzban Kubard’s values, then he must have insisted on starting at the very bottom of the ladder.

The shorter man tilted his head in consideration. Why did Kubard shared all these details about his life? Did he want Shapur to relax? Open up? Have a conversation? He’ll indulged the other man for now. Anyway, it was working. He doesn’t feel like he was going to have a panic attack now.

“Me, too.” Shapur said before Kubard could talk again. “Born in the Netherlands, but raised in America. My parents taught me Dutch. Wasn’t homeschooled, and also graduated from college some time ago. I’m currently working as the chief editor of a publishing company.”

From there, the conversation flowed smoothly. They both simply conversed about everything and anything until they both felt like childhood friends who didn’t actually spend their entire childhood together. 

Kubard told him about the one time someone dared him to cross-dress. Everyone involved agree not to mention the horrifying incident ever again. In turn, Shapur told him about his brief stint in his high school’s play. The actor caught a cold on the day of production and he didn’t have an understudy because it was such a minor role. However, it was a needed role, nevertheless, and the costume had already been tailored for the actor’s measurements. Shapur was the only student available with the same measurements. He stood stiff on stage for an entire 2 minutes before mumbling out his lines.

Kubard roared in laughter at that. Conversation eventually dwindled when they both realized the late hour; they had chatted for an entire six hours. Fortunately, they didn’t have any urgent business planned that day. 

“So, ready to talk now?” Kubard asked. Shapur was ready to act ignorant, because they had been talking the entire time. However, he knew that Kubard meant to talk about their previous lives.

“Yeah.” Shapur nodded. This time, he would take the imitative. “The more I learnt about my past self, I realized how alike Marzban Shapur and I are. We both like sweets. We both have short tempers. We both like strategist games. We have the same taste in books.”

Here, Shapur’s breath hitched. “It made me question how much of my personality was influenced by housing Marzban Shapur’s soul. How much of myself belongs to me alone, and how much was watered down from Pars.”

He banged his fists against the table, probably startling the nearby waitress, but not caring. “The dreams started when Isfan moved in with me for college, you know? It was supposed to be a good time, but then I began to have an identity crisis. Isfan also began having the same dreams, too. I had to be strong for him, I had to be a figure he could rely on.”

He jumped when Kubard laid his hands over Shapur’s clenched fist. “And so you never had time to figure things out for yourself.” Kubard was in no way blaming Isfan, but Shapur had a tendency to put other people, especially his younger brother, before himself.

Kubard’s thumb traced lazy circles around Shapur’s hand. “I had the same problem, you know.”

Shapur blinked in surprised through his misty vision. Since when did his tears appeared? More importantly, if Kubard had the same problem, then why didn’t he seemed panicked? Why was he so composed? When did Kubard solved his problem?

“The dreams began when I started to work for my father’s company. I didn’t know what to think of it at first, but seeing you made it all worthwhile.” Shapur blushed at Kubard’s words. “The Marzban Shapur in my dreams was fiery, unwavering, never backing down. I admired his character, and he made me confront my fears.”

“’Don’t you dare run away. Are you such a coward that you turn into alcohol and women to drown your past? This is why I will never get along with people like you.’” Kubard quoted. “Remember those lines, Shapur?”

Yes, he did. Marzban Shapur and his troops had won the battle, but he was frustrated by how many men he lost. As a result, he had drunk more than usual and lashed out on the nearest target: Kubard. It was embarrassing how Kubard had tried to comfort Shapur at the time, and Shapur ended up blurting out all his accusations and speculations on the other man. The reason for Kubard’s constant inebriated state and womanizing ways seemed obvious at the time. Alcohol inhibited thinking, so alcoholics were usually people who wanted to forget about a horrible past event. Kubard only attempted one-night stands because he was afraid of attachments, not because he really wanted to do all the women in the world.

“So I stopped. I confronted myself and realized that we share the same soul,” Kubard used one hand to touch his heart and the other hand to touch Shapur’s heart. “It’s inevitable that there’s going to be some similarities. However, there are differences, too. After all, we don’t live the same life they did. For example, Marzban Kubard saw horses as a riding tool, but growing up on a farm, I see horses as precious companions. You, as well. You’re not as confrontational as Marzban Shapur, but you can still be quite direct.”

One soul, but different lives and different experiences. Yes, that made sense. Shapur drew a shuddering breath. “Thank you.” Kubard had no idea how much he needed that, or maybe he did.

Shapur picked up his thai ice tea and for the first time since Kubard ordered it, finally tasted its flavor. Oh, Shapur thought when the sweetness filled his mouth. “You remember.”

“Your sweet tooth? Of course!” Kubard scoffed, but the teasing edge in his mouth revealed that he didn’t mean any harm. “How could I forget the one time you splurged on those exotic sweets and ate until you were sick?”  
Huh, Kubard wasn’t differentiating between their current selves and their Marzban selves anymore. Now that Shapur thought about the matter more carefully, he never did. Kubard only tried for Shapur’s sake. The taller man’s consideration warmed him.

Making up his mind, Shapur stood up and paid for both of their drinks. It was only fair repayment, after all, for Kubard’s help. When Kubard protested, Shapur ducked his head and placed a soft kiss near the other man’s ears. “Pay me back later,” he whispered and subtly dropped his business card on Kubard’s lap.

Shapur then strolled away, hearing Kubard’s sputtered almost soundlessly behind him. A few seconds later, the chair scraped and hurried footsteps followed. 

If this tentative meeting and friendship turned into something more, then Shapur would be fine with it, as well. After all, Marzban Shapur and Marzban Kubard may have died, but Shapur and Kubard still lived.

**Author's Note:**

> How I imagined my reincarnation AU to be:
> 
> The age at which you fully regained all your past memories depends on the day you consider to be the pivotal point of your life. The day you begin to regain your memories depend on how long you live and the pivotal point of your life. 
> 
> For example, Kubard considers that day he fell in love with Shapur to be the most important day of his life. Therefore, he will FINISH regaining his memories on that day. As to regaining his memories, the longer he has lived, the sooner he will regain his memories because there’s too many memories to go through. In addition, if he had the pivotal point of his life pretty early, he will also begin remembering much earlier.
> 
> As for what memories he regained, the majority of them will be blurred. For example, we don’t remember exactly what we had for breakfast two months ago or even yesterday. Only the most important memories will be remembered the most, unless you concentrated specifically on that memory. But even then, it’s hard.
> 
> Your brain is an impressive organ, but storing and remembering two life-times worth of memory? The most important memories will enter storage and long-term memory, while the more inconsequential ones will temporarily enter short-term memory and eventually be erased.


End file.
